Retreat to Woodhaven (The Hills of Burlington Book 2) Read online

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  CHAPTER THREE

  Mary didn't believe in wasting time especially when you weren't certain how much you had. Jake hadn't given a day and time but she'd gotten the sense that his arrival while maybe not imminent would be sooner rather than later.

  She stood back to observe her accomplishments. Since just about everyone else had plans for the day that were difficult to reschedule she had rescheduled her own and recruited her next door neighbor's nephew. Nineteen and ambitious in his own quiet way, Brian had done much of the work on her Cedar Street house that she had needed help with. This morning she'd had him hauling furniture from one house to the other. Fortunately the distance between the two was little over a block. That still didn't take away from the fact that some of the furniture was big, bulky, and unbelievably heavy. Between the two of them though they'd gotten all of it moved and she was pleased with her choices and where everything was finally positioned.

  "Is there anything else I can help you with?" Brian stood beside her. He knew few people who were as comfortable with silence as Mary was. At the moment he figured she was working out in her head whether she was happy with where everything was. She'd moved pretty quickly through the bedrooms but then the only pieces they'd moved over that went into those rooms were a couple of small tables. Pretty much everything else had already been in place. Same for the dining room. Though it wasn't decked out like your normal dining room. They had spent a little time in the living room, switching out a couple of the big overstuffed chairs but it was here in the kitchen where she seemed uncertain. He looked at the table she’d been studying intently for several minutes. It wasn't a big table but had been heavy as all get out. Heavier than the little cabinet with the glass doors they'd moved into the kitchen as well. He looked at her, wondered if she wanted to move it again. "Do you want the table somewhere else?"

  Mary pulled her eyes away from the tile topped table to the young man standing patiently beside her. "No. I was just thinking about it and wondering if my cousin would want it or prefer something newer." Something with fewer memories attached to it, she thought to herself.

  "It's a nice table." Brian studied it thoughtfully. He liked old stuff. It was hard not to when everyone around him seemed hooked on it. "Bet a lot of folks have eaten on it."

  "A lot." She quietly agreed with him. "Well, you'd better be going or Mallie will wonder what's holding you up." She was amused and comforted by the change in his demeanor at the mention of her young cousin...actually the daughter of her cousin...whatever that made them. Ever since Mallie's arrival in Burlington along with her grandmother she and Brian had become close friends.

  Desperately wishing he could control the blush he felt rushing upward from his neck to his face Brian scuffled his shoes but didn't look away. "It's not a big deal, she knows I'm helping you."

  "Is she helping Grace out at the store?" Grace Delaney owned and ran her grandfather's store down the street. She had not only become a close friend but also a business partner along with her cousins Carrie and Casey, her Aunt Charlie, and the young and enthusiastic Mallie.

  "No." He shuffled his feet again. "She's at the house. Her grandmother wanted her to pose for her." Something he knew Mallie hated with a passion but did willingly because as much as she hated posing for her grandmother's paintings she loved her grandmother more.

  Mary laughed, understanding his discomfort. Everyone with possibly the exception of her Aunt Charlie knew Mallie would rather do just about anything else including succumbing to a root canal to avoid posing for her grandmother. But she never said no. Never uttered a single word to her grandmother that would alert her to her true feelings. "Go," she told Brian. "Liberate Mallie for now because there will no doubt be another time." Their Aunt Charlie hadn't painted in years and since picking up her brushes again in the last couple of months her granddaughter had become her favorite subject much to Mallie's dismay.

  "I don't think Mallie really minds it." Brian studied his feet, and added. "That much."

  "You're absolutely right, Brian." Mary spoke softly as she studied the young man. And he was so absolutely kind, she thought, finding a way to defend both his friend and her grandmother at the same time. And, she knew, uncomfortable beyond belief with the attention. "Do you think you'll have the time to change out the sink in the upstairs bathroom in the next day or so?" And watched his eyes light up. What others saw as drudge work, he saw as a challenge.

  "Just let me know what time works for you. Classes don't start for another couple of weeks so I've got time for what you still need done here." He paused at the door. "It looks good in here, lots better than before."

  And didn't that say it all Mary thought. She wandered back into the front room with its huge front window that made additional lighting unnecessary during most of the day. The furnishings were simple, mostly antiques that she'd chosen simply because she liked them, including a few pieces of the furniture still in the basement of the Cedar Street house where she and Casey had found it months ago. Some of the long stored furniture had also found its way to the Marshall Street house with Casey and Carrie. Aunt Charlie and Mallie had taken a couple of pieces to use in the Carriage House behind the main house but overall most of it was still down in the basement. She figured for as long as it had already been stored down there, a bit longer wasn't going to make a difference one way or the other.

  But as she looked through the rooms one more time, satisfied they would be to Jake's liking, nothing too flowery or such, she realized the one thing that was missing. She wondered if it would be pushing things too far. Meddling was one thing she went out of her way to avoid, but she loved her cousin and knew whatever was going on that was bringing him here it wasn't a cake walk. And for all that there was no way he’d know whether it had been here before she knew he was coming. That meant she needed to move fast. She pulled out her cell phone which spent more time on the bottom of her purse than anywhere else. And with that thought she sent up a silent prayer it still had a charge to it. When she saw that it did she dug around through her purse for the card she knew was in there...somewhere. When it was finally found, she made the call to the small shop packed with antiques on all four floors as well as crammed in the dark basement. By the end of the short conversation she had made the store owner a very happy man. Again. And because she didn't quibble on the price he immediately agreed to have it delivered within the hour.

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  "Mr. Dlorsach, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I didn't expect you to personally take the time for this. I would have been more than happy to wait until later...or tomorrow." Mary watched with no little trepidation as the small elderly man pushed and shoved along with the help of his grandson to get the old upright piano up the front steps and into the house.

  "Don't you worry yourself now so, Mary." He wouldn't have admitted in this lifetime the piano was heavier than he expected. "I like to help out now and then, don't I, Jim?" He addressed his grandson.

  Jim Dlorsack caught Mary's eye even as he rolled his. "You certainly do, Grandpa. I just don't know how I'd get deliveries made day in and day out if I didn't have you to count on." This time he winked at Mary, comfortable that he was bearing most the weight from his position in the back of the piano, letting his grandfather lead the way as he had for most of his life. "We even let Mitch help out once in a while just for the fun of it." He took a deep breath and made the final push to get it up the last step. "My brother," he explained at Mary's confused look, "Mitch and I are helping Grandpa out here and there."

  "I wouldn't be able to run the show without them." George Dlorsack didn't have a problem giving credit where it was due. "They've been my sidekicks for going on twenty years now. And their Daddy before them until he decided to see the country."

  "He got worn out waiting for you to retire, Grandpa." Jim helped to guide the piano into the corner where Mary had directed them before unloading it.

  "Retire." George laughed as if the word was a foreign one
unknown to him. "What would I do if I retired?"

  "Play golf?" Mark knew the routine. They'd played it out a hundred times if not more.

  "Sissy game. Before I knew it your Grandma would have me cooking or watching those story shows she favors."

  "And wouldn't that be the end of the world as we know it." But he took note of his grandfather's breathing, content that it wasn't heavy or rushed. It amazed him every single time the old man did this and didn't get worn out or a bit out of breath.

  Mary was watching his breathing as well and wasn't nearly as comfortable with it as the man standing beside her. "Won't you come in and have some tea with me. I've got a pitcher in the fridge." She wanted him to sit, relax, and preferably not collapse in her house.

  "That sounds like a fine idea." George followed her through the house, surprising his grandson with his easy acceptance. "This is a fine house. I haven't been here since your Aunt Charlie lived here. Her and Jason. Fine couple, really fine folks."

  Mary glanced at him as she poured tea, sent the younger Dlorsack a questioning look then poured him a glass as well at his slight nod. "Aunt Charlie is staying at the Marshall Street house. Have you been by to see her?" She didn't bother asking if they knew each other. In this town, especially that generation, they all knew each other.

  "Not yet." He took a sip. "You favor your grandmother, not that you don't have the look of your mother. But you really favor your grandmother." He studied her, thinking back over the years. "Of course she was the splitting image of her own mother, I don't remember her that well, I'm old but not that old."

  "And Grandpa was keen on looking at the ladies in his day, weren't you Grandpa?"

  "Darn right!" He clapped his grandson, a big man twice his size, on the back.

  Mary watched the two of them together. She'd seen the same fond interaction between the elder Dlorsack and his other grandson, Mitch. Both younger men were obviously the stalwarts in the business but it was very obvious, regardless of how much their grandfather was or wasn't capable of doing at his age, he remained the core foundation of the business he'd started over half a century ago.

  "It seems like it was only yesterday I delivered a piano to your grandmother at the big house down the street." He watched the woman seated across from him closely.

  "I know my mother took lessons." She remembered the lectures that had been dished out when she’d avoided practicing for her own piano lessons.

  "They all did and if I remember correctly your mother was the only one who stayed with it."

  "She told me when I was little to appreciate my lessons, my piano." She looked at the man who seemed far younger than his years. She knew he had to be older than her aunt. "I still have the piano that I practiced on all those years." She closed her eyes, remembering, unaware of the sadness exposed in her expression. "I think it broke Mom's heart when they had to sell her piano after her father died."

  "It was a difficult time," George agreed. He remembered clearly the little girls who had to grow up almost overnight. "Do you still play the piano?" He felt more than heard his grandson turn in his direction, could almost hear his thoughts wondering what odd direction his old grandpa was going in this time.

  "Not since I've been here, but at home, yes." She thought about her piano, still sitting in their living room where each of the children had struggled through their lessons. Just as she had when it sat in her parents living room during her own childhood. She smiled at the elderly man. "I'm afraid I was every bit as determined with my children as my mother was with me. They each took lessons and complained endlessly about practicing just like I did, and according to my mother, she did as well."

  "Your mother was a strong willed little girl," George agreed readily, remembering the little girl who ran the show when no one else could. "Actually, Mrs. Lane..."

  "Mary," she interrupted to correct him easily, smiling at him even as he reached across the table to pat her hand.

  "Mary, then." He paused, "I have your Mama's piano, I guess you could say I've been taking care of it for her." He paused as memories of a lifetime ago swarmed over him. "Just as I promised her I would."

  "I'll be damned," Jim interrupted, sitting forward and looking at the woman seated in the room with them with a bit more interest than before.

  "You probably will be one day if you don't watch your language, boy." His grandfather admonished him.

  "I don't understand." Mary turned her hand over, gripped his tightly. She took in the tranquil satisfied look on his face and the quietly questioning on his grandson's.

  "It wasn't so much that they needed the money, they just didn't have the space for it. Your grandmother couldn't take care of that big place on her own and hauled as much to the new place as she could. But there just wasn't room for the piano." He squeezed her hand, nodded at his grandson. The story had been told and retold time after time to his family. It was a story they knew, a story he'd wanted them to learn from. "Your Mama came to me, not much more than a child she was then, broken still from the loss of her father. And as you said because she loved that piano." He leaned forward, looked into her eyes, eyes she shared with the women of her family who had come and gone during the years of his own lifetime. "She had already lost so much, more than many realized. That piano was something she and her father shared, he wasn't good on it, but teased her into it so she would be."

  "I didn't know." Mary looked from one man to the other, realized that this was a story that had been shared.

  "They kept track of the songs she mastered on the underside of the piano's top. The writing is still there...faded but you can still read it." He tilted his head, wondered if she could appreciate the gift he was about to give her. If she would understand what the gift was. "There are short notes they wrote to each other, your grandfather to your mother...your mother to him...on the underside...well, it's covered with them."

  "We had it protected a while back so the writing would be preserved." Jim spoke up for the first time since his grandfather had made his announcement. "I didn't realize you were connected to it." He sounded almost apologetic.

  Mary looked from one man to the other. "I don't know what to say. I had no idea of any of this. Mom never said anything." She felt stunned and didn't have the words to ask questions or anything at the moment. Only now she understood the very real loss it had been to her mother. So many pieces of her father she had to give up.

  "Your mother came to me, asked me to keep it for her." George patted her hand. "And that's what I've done." He winked at his grandson, they'd be moving another piano before long. "I told her I'd hold on to it for her until she could..." he paused, for the first time uncertain how to continue.

  "Until she could return to Burlington herself to retrieve it from you." Mary finished for him. Wondering if she would ever find any small solace from the regret that she'd been unable to bring her mother back here as she had so desperately wanted. Had been promised.

  "Yes." George saw the pain, the hurt from something that could never be assuaged. "The way I see it, she may not be here, but you are." He gave his grandson a look that confirmed they would indeed be moving another heavy piece of furniture in the not too distant future.

  "Mr. Dlorsack," Mary began, her voice shaky, stunned by his news and his enormous gift. "I don't know what to say...to think." She couldn't believe her mother had never said anything, anything at all.

  "Nothing to think about." George assured her. Nothing like things coming full circle to make one feel worthy of the life they'd been blessed with. "We'll bring it to you tomorrow. All I need to know is which house, the Marshall or Cedar Street house?"

  Mary struggled against tears. So much had assailed her in these few minutes. Finding out a piece of her family history had survived the years and would soon be returned to where it belonged. She grasped his hand again. "The Cedar Street house," she said firmly. "I want it close and that's where I am." She thought about the house, rearranged the rooms ruthlessly in her mind to make room for
the piano her mother had had to give up. "I'll find room for it. Thank you." She leaned forward, held close the man who was giving her so much more than she could express. "Thank you so much."

  "Mary?" The deep voice came from the doorway. "Mary. You here?"

  "Jake." She pushed back from the table, rushed from the kitchen and through the hallway to the front door. "Jake," she registered his wariness moments before enclosing him in a huge hug.

  From behind them, George and Jim shuffled forward, planning on edging out until George stopped in awe. "You must be Mike's boy. You have his looks." He pushed forward, took the hand that Jake held out.

  Mary moved back as much as she could. The entryway was crowded with more people than it would normally be able to accommodate. "Jake, this is George Dlorsack and his grandson Jim." She made the introductions as the men exchanged handshakes.

  "You certainly do have the look of your father." George shook his head. If it wasn't one it was another. He looked to Mary. "We'll see you tomorrow morning around ten if that's okay with you."